


A Gout of Arcane Fire

by blodwite



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Blood, F/M, M/M, Sexual Themes, Vampirism, canon violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2015-11-12
Packaged: 2018-04-26 04:57:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4991101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blodwite/pseuds/blodwite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jalin Dai, a Dragonborn who is more interested in making a septim then saving the world, catches himself in a bind when he is captured by Movarth Piquine and his vampire underlings while trying to collect the bounty on Movarth's head in Hjaalmarch. Inflicted with vampirism and left to die, his loyal follower Marcurio pulls him from the cave. Having faced death and dealing with his new vampirism, Jalin is forced to deal with new conflicting emotions and what it means to be the Dragonborn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Gift Well Given

Pain sliced its way through his body once again as Jalin Dai tugged experimentally at his bonds. He hissed softly, with teeth gritted against the burning heat that lingered in his limbs after the first fierce, fresh wave of pain. Why did he have to test the metal shackles that kept him chained to the wall? He’d already known that they weren’t going to budge.  


The metal was in pristine condition despite the dampness of the cave, not a single speck of rust in sight unfortunately. It wasn’t even in danger of being ripped from the wall, securely snug as it was.  


A sigh escaped him as he allowed himself to relax against the cold, damp ground again. Well, relax as much as he could, given his conditions.  


Water dripped from the ceiling somewhere else in the dark room, where he didn’t know. That wasn’t what he focused on in the sparing moments that someone had come into this room baring light.  


He couldn’t see anything now, as his captors hadn’t been kind enough to loan him some form of light. However, he knew that just out of his reach there were metal bars that formed a cell around him, ending at the cave wall rather than forming a complete square. Beyond the bars there was a small table, on which rested a small knife, a bowl, and an unlit lantern. There was a chair next to the table, so that his imprisoners could sit in comfort while they tormented him.  


Within the bars there was nothing but himself and the chains that bound his by his wrists to the wall. He wasn’t even given a dirty pelt to lay upon. Though he supposed that that was fair, since he had been the one that had forced his way into their cave with the intentions of killing them all.  


It was cold and damp, the fact only heightened by the terrible state his clothing was in. Torn and shredded, his clothes no longer served as protection from his environment. They had taken his soft, leather armor when they had taken his weapons.  


Two days.  


Jalin Dai had been laying in here for two whole days and two whole nights. This must be the beginning of the third night, he mused, struggling to keep his eyes open against the dark. He couldn’t tell how time was passing in this cell, he only knew because they had sent someone with water to him earlier the night before. The soft light that sometimes passed outside the distant wooden door of this room was indication enough that it was night again.  


Trying to pull himself up into a sitting position, Jalin Dai grunted as he fell back to the ground, his strength failing him.  


Two days…  


He was going to die soon.  


Reaching a hand up, he pressed a hand coated with dried blood against the wound in his left shoulder. A deep, slashing sword wound, though not very long. He’d only been clipped with the blade as he had stepped back out of the way. Sloppy work, but he’d been surround. Sluggishly, the wound still bleed. Jalin had long since lost the energy to try to stop the bleeding.  


It wasn’t the wound that worried him the most.  


The two small puncture wounds that dug deeply into his forearm were what caused his anxiety. The veins leading away from the twin wounds were dark, twisted with an unnatural disease that he could feel burning its way through him. He knew without light that the dark veins had spread from the wounds, probably reaching all the way to his other arm by now.  


Letting his body go lax, Jalin groaned quietly. He cursed having ever excepted this job from Idgrod Ravencrone.  


One more day was all he had left.  


The night after that would be too late.

 

 

The sound of the wooden door creaking open startled Jalin out of his light stupor. His eyes flew open, only to be squeezed shut as the light graced them. How desperate he was to see light, but it hurt too much to look at.  


A deep chuckle mocked him from across the room. Footsteps approached him, and he finally managed to peel open an eye as the man stopped before the bars.  


“You’re not looking too good, are you?” the man asked, lips twisted up into the mockery of a smirk. Sharp fangs glinted in the light when he spoke, and those hellish eyes stared deep into Jalin’s.  


Unable to look away, and unable to muster the energy to move Jalin Dai lay there as the vampire unlocked the door in his barred cell. Panic rose in his chest, his fluttering heart pumping tainted blood throughout his body.  


Movarth laughed softly at the sounds of desperation that the man made as he stepped toward him. No doubt the vampire was getting off on his fear, but Jalin wasn’t able to help himself. Seasoned adventurer that he was, Jalin Dai feared death when it looked him in the face.  


Kneeling down before the weak, barely alive mer Movarth reached down a hand to gentle ruffle his dark hair, “poor child, Idgrod thought that you could handle this, didn’t she? She must be thoroughly disappointed that things did not go as she had foreseen this time.”  


A whimper was the only response Jalin dignified to make.  


Thoroughly amused, Movarth gripped a handful of the soft hair to pull the man up to eye level, “you did well though, despite your small army leaving you at the entrance and despite being out numbered. You even managed to let your little friend escape before you were captured, Jalin.”  


Eyes smarting against the pain in his head, that was dulled against that which was roaring through his body, Jalin stared at the vampire with weeping eyes. Exhausted and drained as he was, Jalin didn’t like where this conversation was going. There was one fact that he did cling to, desperately in his edging toward delirium mental state.  


Marcurio was still alive.  


That was what echoed through his mind in the vampire’s words, even as the vampire continued to speak.  


“I like you, your determination. Even if you used it to defy me,” Movarth murmured softly, as his cold hands searched Jalin’s wrists to the keyhole to unlock the shackles, “I’ve decided to give you the gift of immortality for your accomplishments.”  


The words sank in his mind like stones through calm water.  


Panic overtook Jalin’s mind, and he tightened his hands into fists. That was all the defiance his weakened body would allow him to make as the cold vampire sank his fangs into Jalin’s throat and forced him into unconsciousness.


	2. Startled Realizations

Jalin felt strong hands lifting him up, carrying him. Other than a small groan, he was unable to respond. Lost in a haze of pain and weakness, with vision tinged red at the edges when he managed to open his eyes, Jalin was barely cognizant of the fact that someone was actually removing him from Movarth’s Lair.

Benor shifted the weight of the man in his arms uncomfortably, wondering silently why he agreed to this as he followed Marcurio through the cave towards the exit. Falion tagged along behind them, there in case any vampires still lingered behind.

His encumbrance groaned, and Benor cast his eyes down at the bosmer. He froze as his gaze came across the puncture wounds, red and fleshy, though not bleeding, in the man’s neck. Falion gracefully ran into the back of the large nord as the man stopped short.

The redguard’s angry complaint was cut off as Benor gruffly instructed him to examine Jalin.

“Ah,” Falion realized the problem, his gaze immediately finding its way to the telltale wounds, he gave Benor an encouraging pat on the back, knowing that the nord probably didn’t want to be carrying around a vampire, “just take him outside of this cave so that I might examine him. We won’t need your assistance past that, Benor.”

Nodding the nord continued on his way, following Marcurio who was so flustered that he hadn’t even realized that they had stopped. Poor lad had been despondent when he’d arrived in Morthal three nights ago. He’d been a bloody, singed mess, rambling on about how they had to save his friend whom he’d left at the cave when they had been swarmed with vampires.

Falion had calmed the apprentice wizard forcefully with a spell, putting him to bed in the inn so that he could deal with his injuries and make sure that he wasn’t inflicted with vampirism. He had awoken two days later, well enough to finally explain what had happened to them inside of Movarth’s lair. Jarl Ravencroft had arranged for this small army to go on a rescue mission for the man she had hired to rid Morthal of vampires.

Given that the bosmer was the only thing alive left in the cave one could argue that he had done his job. Falion however, suspected that there was still one vampire left. The vampire hunter himself.

 

Finally, outside of the cave, Benor left out a deep sigh of thankfulness, and deposited his burden on the ground as quickly as he could as gently as he could. Marcurio glared at him as Falion thanked him, trying to burn holes into the back of his shirt with his venomous as the nord hurried away from the once vampire infested cave.

Falion cleared his throat, all at once gaining the young mage’s attention, “do you have a water skin?”

“Ah, aye,” Marcurio fumbled with the ties on his belt for moment before handing the skin to Falion, stepping forward to kneel beside Jalin in the dirt. Brushing the bosmer’s dark hair from his face, the mage scanned his eyes over Jalin’s ragged form. His clothes were a mess, torn, soiled, and bloodied. He could see the red, jagged line of a healing scar on Jalin’s right shoulder.

Frowning, Marcurio leaned forward lifting up the remains of the tunic so that he could examine the healing wound. Jalin never had a scar there before...

“Falion!” The young mage turned toward the conjurer, his hair swirling around his face, “he’s contracted vampirism.”

The redguard conjurer sighed, “I know Marcurio, I could tell the moment we reached him in that cell.” Uncorking the water skin, he poured a small amount of its contents onto a rag that he produced from his pockets. Kneeling he rubbed at the filth that coated Jalin’s face.

“He’s lost his body heat…” Falion muttered, fingers testing the temperature of the bosmer’s forehead. Peeling open an eye, he frowned as the slitted pupil dilated and the lid struggled to close under his finger. Sighing, Falion allowed the vampire to close its eye and climbed to his feet.

Holding out a hand, he stirred up the magicka in his blood so that he could heal Jalin.

Marcurio stood close, much too close for Falion’s liking, “you can cure him, can’t you?” he asked softly, voice barely heard above the soft swishing of the spell.

Falion turned slightly to examine the young mage, the soft yellow light of the restoration magic on his face contrasting the shadows rendered by his features made the lad seem even more despondent, if such a thing was possible.

Negating the magic, Falion lowered his hand, “no, Marcurio, I’m afraid that I cannot,” he sighed again, he hated tough situations like this. It was almost like telling someone with a disease that they didn’t have long to live.

“His condition has advanced too far.”

 

_His condition has advanced too far._

Those words echoed within Jalin’s mind as he slowly became able to feel his aching body. Twitching his fingers experimentally, Jalin groaned as he tried to open his eyes only to be blinded by the brightest light he’d ever seen. Why did they have to be shining mage light in his face just as he was regaining consciousness? 

Moving his body subtle, he found out that his injuries had been healed. No doubt by magic, he vaguely remembered hearing Falion’s voice right as he had woken up. Thank the nine that they had gotten him out of that damned cave. Away from those accursed vampires… 

Vampires… 

Why did his body ache so if his wounds were healed with magic? Why did his throat burn as though someone had poured molten metal down it? 

Whimpering low in his throat, Jalin twisted his body so that he could curl it into a ball. He heard quick, shuffling sounds as though people were backing away, startled by his movements. 

His hazy mind was slowly becoming more aware of what it was sensing. The sounds of the pair next to him, their scent. Ah, their scent. Delicious, it made his mouth water. 

A small gasp escaped him when he caught up to his thoughts, eyes flying open despite the pain that the light caused him. Sitting up suddenly he frantically glanced around himself gaze stopping at Falion and Marucrio eyeing him wearily, spells prepared in each of their hands. 

They were… afraid of him. 

_His condition has advanced too far._

_I’ve decided to give you the gift of immortality._

“Shit,” Jalin muttered, spewing out the first words that came to his addled mind, “I’m a vampire.” 


	3. Why You Still Breath

Falion finished setting the ward to the door frame with a heavy sigh. He really disliked having a vampire locked up in his house, and he regretted agreeing to take them in. Angi would be in danger with him here, though he trusted the strength of his wards. There was no telling what could happen, and he couldn't be too careful.

Stepping away from the door, Falion went off to find Angi, to tell her about their guests and to instruct her on what to do in several situations should they occur. He also moved away to give the pair within the room some privacy.

Marcurio sat at the edge of the bed, body turned slightly toward Jalin who lay within it. Neither had spoken since Falion had stepped out of the room. He had taught Marcurio how to repair the strong, complex ward that denied passage to the undead. With that Jalin wouldn't be able to leave the room. For extra measures, Falion had placed other wards on the door leading into the house, as well as wards on all of the windows. He'd also given his daughter a silver dagger.

Jalin sighed deeply, reflecting unhappily on his new status as a dangerous beast. He didn't like that everyone treaded around him so carefully, afraid that he would snap and sink his new fangs into their, or their children's, throats. He hated it, but he knew that it was warranted. The dark, growing hunger that had made its home in his stomach and his throat wasn't something that he could deny.

"Does it hurt?" Marcurio's soft voice was enough to startle Jalin out of his thoughts.

The vampire turned and looked at the mage in disbelief. _Does it hurt? My body or the hunger?_ Jalin wondered, staring at his follower in disbelief. How strange of him to ask a vampire that.

"It does hurt," Jalin admitted, words slightly slurred as he struggled not to slice his tongue on his new fangs.

At this news Marcurio seemed crestfallen, "oh no," he murmured, running his hands on his pants. He didn't want Jalin to be in pain, but they had no way to feed the vampire as far as Macurio knew. Falion hadn't told him anything. How were they going to keep the Dragonborn from loosing himself in the throws of bloodlust?

Beside him Jalin groaned. Marcurio leaped forward, reaching out to assist his old friend, but Jalin pushed him away.

Breathing heavy, and with a hand glued to the strong burning sensation in his throat, Jalin waved Marcurio away.

"Leave me," he urged, voice gruff, deepened by his hunger. He made a vague shooing motion toward the door.

With a shake of his head, Marcurio refused, "how can I leave you when you're like this?" He'd been following Jalin for a long time now, three years. Three years of his time had been spent running all over Skyrim with this idiot of a man causing hell. Three years, and the son of a bitch wanted him to leave. He could understand the prudence of leaving in this situation, but there was no way in oblivion that he was going to leave Jalin like this.

No sooner did those words escape his mouth did a gasp follow. Strong cold hands latched onto his wrists and flipped him over onto the bed before he even realized what was happening.

Staring up into those red eyes, Marcurio froze. They were feral and went deep, deeper than Jalin's eyes had gone in the past. He was held fast by that gaze, held by an unspoken spell and unable to look away.

The vampire, no, Jalin, dipped his head down to run his tongue over Marcurio's throat. A low groan rumbled close to Marcurio's ear and he shivered, raising his hands to press them against Jalin's shoulders. No longer looking into the wood elf's eyes he was free of whatever spell that had held sway over him. Free to act he tried to shove the vampire off of him and away from his neck.

Panic rose into Marcurio's chest from the pit of his stomach when Jalin failed to budge, seemingly unaffected by Marcurio's struggles.

Trapped.

He was trapped.

Struggling within the vampire's grip was pointless, but he attempted it anyway. He was unable to help himself from trying as fear for his life drove his limbs to flail about in a fashion similar to a fish struggling out of water.

Freezing again, he gave a sharp intake of breath when those warm fangs pressed against his skin. Squeezing his eyes shut, Marcurio braced himself for the pain of those points sinking into his throat.

Instead, the weight of Jalin was lifted off of him.

Opening his eyes, Marcurio breathed a sigh in relief as he watched Falion pinning Jalin on the floor with magic.

Falion rubbed at his eyes with one hand as he maintained the spell, grateful that he had stepped back into this room in time. Otherwise, there was a chance that he would be dealing with two vampires rather than one. The bite was how they transmitted their disease, there was a chance that infection could take place in the victim. Usually a person could fight off the infection like a cold, only feeling ill for a few days. Or, they could end up like poor Jalin who was squirming on the floor. There was venom within their fangs, and they could control whether to infect their victim, enthrall them, or simply feed off of them.

A blood starved fledgling like Jalin would have no control over that. While it was likely that Marcurio was healthy enough to fend off the disease, Falion really did not want to take any chances.

He probably wouldn't have that kind of control for several months, Falion reflected, after experimenting with his food for awhile. Giving his head a shake, Falion cast his stray thoughts aside and turned toward Marcurio in concern.

"Are you alright? Did he pierce you with his fangs?" Falion asked, though he didn't dare step away from Jalin. The vampire was struggling frantically, and he could feel the strain within his spell. If Jalin hadn't been starved for his first meal, Falion knew that he wouldn't have been able to hold him down like this with telekinesis. Jalin was infected with a particularly strong strain of vampirism. That was why he hadn't been able to change the Dragonborn back into a mortal.

"No, no, I'm fine," Marcurio reassured, rubbing his neck to double check, though he was sure that his skin was unbroken, "will Jalin be alright? What are we going to do with him? If we don't allow him to have blood he'll..." He trailed off, watching the Dragonborn thrash around on the floor. He was pinned there by a strong telekinesis spell, but he was still able to move his limbs around enough to hit them off of the floor like a toddler throwing a fit.

Falion sighed as the younger mage trailed off, "yes, he'll be fine." He held out an empty mug to Marcurio, "rather, he will be once you give him some of your blood."

"In the mug?" Marcurio asked, going somewhat pale, though he accepted the mug that was offered to him, "why me? Why can't you do it? You're the vampire expert."

"One, because I'll increase the rate I'm charging the two of you for this room and board situation, two, because my daughter is in danger just by him being here, and three, because a vampire will crave their victims blood until killing them once they've tasted them, and I'd rather have him waking you up at three in the morning because he has a craving than me, because I'd kill him."

Falion's eloquent answer had Marcurio sliding a dagger blade across his left palm without a second thought. They couldn't afford for Falion to raise the price for his services, they were giving him all that they had as it was. He was unnerved by the fact that Jalin would want to be biting into him specifically from now on, but he bled into the cup without comment.

Jalin paused in his thrashing for a moment, opening his mouth and breathing in deeply, before struggling about with more effort than before. Falion and Marcurio both shifted their eyes to the vampire at this renewal in vigor at the scent of blood. It was disconcerting seeing someone that you had known for a long period of time suddenly giving into instincts and behaving in manners that they would never be caught dead doing usually.

Once his bleeding slowed, Marcurio passed the blood filled mug to Falion. He watched as the Redguard kneeled down to help Jalin drink the liquid in the position he was in on the floor. A small shudder shook him as he watched his blood disappear past those now stained lips. The desire to look away was strong, but Marcurio forced himself to watch. This was a sight that he would need to view often in the future if he wanted to keep traveling with the Dragonborn.

He did want to keep traveling with Jalin, Marcurio realized. He'd become good friends with the man who had hired him to watch his back as they delved into dangerous ruins. They'd told each other things that they hadn't dared tell others, they'd bared their souls to each other, over these three years. Even so, the Dragonborn had dark parts that he wouldn't allow any other to see, not even Marcurio. Jalin would need the young mage now more than ever, and Marcurio wanted to be there for him.

Falion helped Jalin sit up once he had drank the blood, keeping his telekinesis spell halfway on the vampire. He still couldn't get over the fact that he was helping a fledging vampire handle his vampirism. Normally he would have killed the fiend once he had realized that he couldn't cure it. This one however... The Dragonborn wasn't a being that he could kill with a clean conscious. Not with all the dragons flying around, wrecking havoc right now. Vampire, or not, Skyrim... no, Tamriel needed the Dragonborn if it was going to survive whatever was going to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really slow at updating, though the actual writing doesn't take me very long...


	4. Another Accident

This was irritating.

It was horrible, it sucked, he hated every minute of it. Yet he understood why they had done this to him, why Falion didn't want him roaming about the town, or even his house. Becoming a vampire had made his life incredible boring, not an affect that he had been expecting to be honest.

Jalin prowled about the small room that had been allotted to him, muttering under his breath as he paced around it. He'd tried the spell at the door, just to see what it would do to him. It was like there was a solid wall in the door frame, only he couldn't see it. Marcurio had said that he could almost see it before he had left, said it was like a slightly blue blur in the air, that energy jumped off of it in the shape of tiny blue-clear lightening bolts.

Before it had been curiosity that had driven him to try the barrier, now it was need. That deep, searing thirst that had plagued him the night before had slowly returned whilst he had slept during the day. The sun had set several hours ago, and yet no one had walked in here yet. Jalin couldn't tell if anyone was awake, or even in the house. The barrier seemed to prevent smells and sounds from entering this small room. That was deeply irritating. He needed to scent things, to explore his new sense beyond what this room could offer him. It was a deep itch within his skin, though the hunger currently overshadowed it.

More than that, Jalin wished to hear them. He was lonely, here in this isolated room. Where was everyone? He hated not knowing, hated being alone. The vampirism had already separated him from the mortals, and now he was physically alone.

Approaching the closed door, Jalin hesitantly reached out a slender hand. The moment his fingers connected with the invisible barrier a strong scent of burning flesh filled the air around him. Pulling back sharply with a loud, gasping hiss and several curses the wood elf recoiled as the aftershocks sent pain from his fingertips all the way up his arm for a few moments before fading into a dull tingly.

He couldn't stand it.

This loneliness and separation.

The bloodlust.

Jalin sat down heavily on the bed, blankly staring at the unadorned wooden wall. His insides ached with hunger, and he was glad that the barrier kept them safe from him even if it was cause of his loneliness. Thinking of himself as a person wasn't healthy, not when he was suddenly a dangerous monster. A monster that desperately wanted to eat his best friend.

Where was Marcurio?

A loud groan escaped him as he fell back on the bed, turning his face into the rough fabric and furs. Long, clawed fingers anchored themselves into the coverings and he curled himself into a ball in an effort to ease the pain in his stomach. This hunger attack had made his fangs very sensitive, and each accidental brushing of his tongue sent strange shivers through him. It was an odd longing, this desperate need. Jalin knew it was for blood, that was what his body was screaming for.

Yet all he could think about was Marcurio.

 

Shifting his feet quietly, Marcurio lifted the bow slowly. Fingers pulled back the softly glowing arrow, and he paused, bow drawn back, to breath. He'd never been a good shot, but one didn't really have to be with a conjured bow. The arrow knew where he wanted it to fly, and he could control it with his magicka if he tried hard enough. Still, he wasn't used to doing this, and he flinched a little when he let the arrow fly and heard it impact with the elk.

The poor thing gave a small cry of surprise and pain as the arrow tore through its flesh. It ran a short distance, until the blood filling its lungs caused it to collapse.

Wiping a hand across his forehead, Marcurio gave a sigh, allowing the bow and quiver of arrows to vanish as he let go of the magicka that sustained it. He walked over to the fallen elk, a frown twisting his lips. He really wasn't used to doing this, and he really hated it. Marcurio was a mage, he incinerated and froze his adversaries from a distance. Sometimes he even summoned other beings to do the same thing for him. Only in dire situations had he ever had to take an actual blade to a person, or thing.

Jalin was always the one hunting for them. Sure, sometimes Marcurio would help, but it was faster and easier if Jalin just did it by himself. The wood elf was skilled in the arts of hunting, a product of a childhood spent in the wilds of Valenwood. He had taught Marcurio enough to be able to handle himself in the off chance that he got stranded in the Skyrim wilderness alone.

Despite this Marcurio couldn't fight off the feeling of nausea as he quickly dressed the elk and packed it. He wasn't able to take much of it, since he was just carrying what he could back to Morthal. A short walk, roughly an hour, but they really didn't need a lot of meat, it would spoil before they used it. No one would buy it from them if Marcurio tried to sell it, not with the townspeople being weary of Falion. So he left the rest of it there for whatever wanted it, wolves probably, maybe a bear. Hopefully it was animals that wanted it and not something else.

A shiver ran down Marcurio's spine as he thought about what could be lurking in this swamp, watching him. Quickly he shouldered his pack and began his walk back to Falion's house, very aware of the darkening sky over head.

 

The door opened with a thud, startling Falion from his work. He dropped the mortar and pestle he'd been grinding a combination of herbs in as he jumped at the noise, snapping his head toward the door and forming a fireball in both hands as he prepared to defend himself and Agni who was across the room. The fire quickly sizzled out as Marcurio spilled into the house, supporting his weight on the back of a chair close to the door to prevent himself from falling to the ground.

Panting and disheveled, Marcurio slipped the pack of elk meat off of his back onto the floor before it made him fall over. One of the arrows embedded into it fell onto the floor as it landed with a soft thud. Blood dripped to the floor from a deep gash in his thigh and an old arrow was lodged in his left shoulder.

Falion and Agni both rushed forward to assist the man, not a question asked between them. Helping Marcurio to the bench, Falion quickly sent Agni off for some warm water and rags. Moving quickly, he tore the fabric away from the wound to inspect it.

"This is going to hurt quite a bit, but I need to make sure there isn't anything embedded before I heal it," Falion warned and promptly stuck two fingers into the wound without giving the younger mage any time to think about what he had said. Slender fingers felt something thing and hard within the wound, and pulled from it a rusty fragment of an old nordic sword. Tossing it onto the floor, not caring about the blood, Falion returned to his ward. Adding magicka to his fingers, he felt around for any more foreign objects within the wound. Finding none, he spread his bloody hand out, hovering over the wound to heal it with magic.

Agni returned them with a steaming bucket, quickly shutting the door behind her and setting it close to Falion. Short of breath and flushed the girl was swaying on her feet as she stood beside him. Falion suspected that she had heated the water with fire magic as she had ran here from the end of the dock where they got the clearest water.

Finished with the leg wound, he turned his attention to the arrow stuck into Marcurio's shoulder. This would be even more painful for the young man.

"Wet a clean rag, Agni," Falion ordered, "you're going to have to help me with the next bit."

Grabbing a knife off of the table, he summoned a fireball in his palm and heated the blade of the knife with it for several seconds.

"Lay down on the bench," he ordered Marcurio, waiting for the blade to cool. Agni helped Marcurio lay back onto the bench, before stepping back.

Handing the knife to her, Falion said, "you're going to have to enlarge the wound and feel the arrow tip to see if it is embedded in bone. It probably is there, but hopefully it managed to find a hole. I have to hold him down. Can you do that, dear?" He asked gently, watching her expression.

Agni paused, staring at the knife in her hand for a moment before nodding. She could do it. It frightened her, to stick this blade into human flesh, but she could do it because she had to. It was to help him, and not to hurt him. She didn't know what she was doing, but she trusted Falion to guide her and to intervene if she messed up badly enough to hurt the young mage.

Blade trembling in her small hands, Agni raised it to the wound as Falion went to subdue Marcurio. Giving his ward a nod, he braced himself as Marcurio strained against the pain of a new wound.

"Just make the wound a little bigger, an inch or so on either side," he advised between gritted teeth as he struggled to keep the blood-loss weakened Marcurio from thrashing about and injuring himself further, "that's good, honey. Now feel down the arrow, carefully, to see if it is stuck in bone."

Laying the bloodied knife on the table, Agni took a breath to compose herself. She was trembling horribly, and desperately wanted to run outside to be sick. Nodding to show that she had heard her adopted father speak, she stuck her fingers into the wound without showing any reserve. Better to get this over with before she chickened out, or worse, passed out. Falion couldn't do this on his own. Well, he probably could, but restraining Marcurio with magic would take concentration and he could miss something that could be fatal to the mage.

"It's in the bone," Agni said loudenough to be heard over Marcurio's groans and labored breathing.

Falion cursed loudly. He'd been hanging onto the off chance that the arrow had slipped through the bones or had sank into muscle. Unlikely in that location, but he was unable to yank the arrowhead out and restrain the mage. This wasn't something he could do while using telekinesis to pin him, too many risks involved.

"Let me help."

Agni gave a small gasp of fear, and Falion whirled around to face the husky voice that had intruded.

Jalin stood in the doorway of the small room he had been banished to, nonchalantly leaning against the doorframe and most definitely past the barrier that Falion had erected to keep him locked in.

Fiery, yellow eyes burned into his own and Falion let out another loud curse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The more into this I get, the longer the chapters get!


	5. Setbacks

Falion's loud curse resounded in the room as everyone stood frozen. Marcurio's loud pants were the only audible noise in the room for the mortals. For Jalin however, this awkward pause in the room was punctuated by beating hearts, as if three mistimed clocks were all keeping different track of different things. It was a strong pull on his self-control, coupled with Marcurio's blood scent heavy in the air.

That was what had drawn him out of the room. The heavy, heady scent of Marcurio's blood. It stirred within him a fierce, painful thirst. His throat burned, and his entire body ached for it. A particular ache had settled in his stomach, urging him to step past the mortals blocking his way and sink his fangs into the waiting flesh.

It worried him also. This much blood in the air meant that the mage had been injured greatly, possibly with life-threatening wounds.

Jalin Dai had fretted about the small room for several moments, worry and hungry gnawing at him, gnashing angry teeth within him until he could take it no more. It had taken him several tries to get through the strong barrier, and he had severe burns on his hands to attest to that struggle. Naturally he had no talent with magic, yet it seemed that vampires had some innate psychic abilities, and once he somewhat figured out how to tap into that slipping through the barrier had proved rather simple.

He hadn't broken it down, it still stood up, guarding that room against the undead.

Tired of waiting for Falion to give him permission, Jalin stepped forward. Agni took a frightened step back, inciting her father to hiss at her to not move. While this might have puzzled Jalin before his disease, he understood perfectly now. Such movements made in fear stirred some new instinct within him. Unable to help himself, Jalin stared intensely at the young nord girl, body tensing in case she were to move again. Desperately he wanted her to flee... so that he could give chase.

Clearing his throat loudly, Falion placed a hand onto Jalin's shoulder causing him to startle. Jalin hadn't seen Falion move from Marcurio over to him. He'd been so intent on the girl...

"Please help me with Marcurio, Jalin. We have to remove the arrow immediately," Falion urged, something desperate in his voice.

Jalin gave a nod, of course, that was why he was here, why he had discovered that he could slip through Falion's barrier. So that he could help his poor Marcurio, not stare down frightened little nord girls.

"Agni," Falion called out, after he had place his hands back onto Marcurio's shoulders, "will you go outside, child?" He wanted the girl to be as far away from Jalin as possible.

She seemed to feel the same way, for she nodded eagerly and quickly left without another word. She had even taken the bloody rag in her hand out with her, forgetting she had it in her fear and haste.

"Now then, Jalin, grab the arrowhead, not the shaft, and pull it straight up out of the wound. As quickly as possible, mind you," the mage instructed, sounding suddenly exhausted. He prepared himself for the brief struggle that young Marcurio was sure to give once the arrow was pulled free, and for whatever Jalin would do once the task that was focusing his mind off the bloodlust was completed.

Nodding again, the elf slipped thin, pale fingers into the bright red of Marcurio's wound, drawing a pained gasp from the man. Giving the arrow a quick yank, he easily pulled it out of the bone with his preternatural strength. Such a feat would have been difficult for Falion to accomplish. He would have had to have gotten something to pry the arrowhead out with, and it would have taken all his strength and then some to remove it.

A short cry of pain accompanied the removal of the arrow, and Marcurio fell back onto the bench in relief. Squeezing his eyes shut against the spinning room, Marcurio tried to control his breathing and fight his growing nausea. Actually, he was quite surprised that he hadn't passed out yet. He'd lost so much blood as he had made his way back here.

Tossing the discarded arrow onto the floor, Jalin turned his attention back to the wound. Now that the obstacle was gone, Falion could heal the wound up no problem. Marcurio was fine now, everything was alright. Sighing softly, he lowered his down to Marcurio's shoulder, tongue flicking out and tracing the jagged flesh. Breath hitching, Jalin have a low moan before attaching his lips to the wound and sucking on it.

Fear slipped its way into Marcurio's bloodstream, causing his heart to pound, "Fa-Falion..." he began in alarm, tongue heavy in his mouth. He was dizzy, lightheaded from blood loss. Every movement caused the world to spin around him. There was no way that he was able to fight off a hungry vampire, and he wasn't in the state to be giving away blood to others.

"Easy, Marcurio," far from soothing, Falion's dry voice nonetheless attempted to comfort, "I won't let him eat you."

Releasing a Repel Undead at the vampire, Falion watched with amusement as Jalin jerked back with a feral snarl, hurrying away from them. There wasn't enough power behind the spell to cause Jalin to flee, but it still must have felt unpleasant.

Moving to heal the wound in his shoulder, Falion spoke, "if you can manage not to sink your fangs into him, you can help me get him to a bed." Marcurio wouldn't be walking for the next day or so. Falion could heal the damaged tissue, but there was no spell to replenish lost blood. A pity for the short vampire hovering next to the mage, he would have to partake of something else's blood for the next week. Even though he would crave Marcurio's blood like an alcoholic craved ale.

As they shifted Marcurio between them on the way to the barriered room, Falion sighed deeply. He'd been hoping to kick these two out soon, especially now that he knew his barriers couldn't hold Jalin in. Now he'd have to keep them until Marcurio heal enough to be safe with a vampire who craved his blood on his own.

 _This is going to be a long week_ , Falion thought with a groan.


End file.
